The Alchemist, first chapter

[azn_apocalypse]

The Alchemist is inspired by an idea for a D2 class I had once. This is the first chapter. Suggestions/comments encouraged.

--

Balthas’s family had just sat down to dinner when they heard the far-off peal of the warning horn. Lut Gholein was under attack again.

Without saying a word, Balthas and his son Luke both sprang into action immediately, pushing aside their curried wendigo and leaping out of their chairs. They had been through this situation many times and knew exactly what to do. Balthas threw open the arms cabinet, tossed a wooden spear to his son, and chose a particularly nasty-looking poleaxe for himself. The two then ran out the door, leaving Balthas’s wife and his daughter to worry about their safety.

Outside, the two men joined a crowd of others running frantically toward the gates of Lut Gholein, weapons in hand. The doors of houses were flying open everywhere as more and more men, carrying polearms, swords, clubs, even kitchen knives, joined the rush of those fanatically wanting to defend their city.

“What is it?” several voices shouted into the night.

“Scarabs!” came the answer. “Hordes of them! More than we’ve ever seen!”

Balthas saw his son wince. Of all the creatures from the desert that had ever attacked Lut Gholein, Balthas knew that Luke feared the scarab beetles the most. Balthas had to agree; he himself found the scarabs more fearsome than the mummies or spear cats that were also found out in the wasteland. There was just something very unnerving about fighting an insect as tall as a man.

The attacks from the desert creatures had always been an issue in Lut Gholein, but recently the sieges had been increasing in both frequency and intensity. It was a worrisome trend, and no one knew the reason behind it. The last attack, which came only two days ago from a horde of undead, had killed off many of the city’s strongest men. During that attack, the undead had come dangerously close to breaking through the city’s defenses; only a last-ditch effort by the palace guards and the royal sorcerers had prevented the attackers from entering the city and committing untold horrors. Since that day, Lut Gholein had lived in fear of the next attack, hoping the city’s weakened defenses would be enough to repel it.

Now that attack had come, and it was time to determine the city’s fate.

As Balthas reached the city gates he sucked in his breath sharply. The man who had spoken earlier was right. There were more scarabs there then he had ever seen all at once. They had not managed to enter the city yet, but there must have been hundreds of them just outside the gates trying to get in, standing close together in pack formation. They were a metallic green cloud in contrast to the white desert sands, a cloud that was pulsating with individual insects as they emerged from the pack to attack the defenders with their razor-sharp limbs and beaked jaws. It was rumored that they would bring humans fallen in battle back with them to their hive, where they would tear them apart into tiny pieces, each insect getting its own share to eat.

A crowd of men had already started attacking the scarabs. Balthas and Luke ran to join the melee. As he got closer, Balthas heard the reassuring sound of the men’s weapons hitting home. There was also a constant sizzle of electricity, and a steady stream of the lightning balls that scarabs give off when they are hit. The lightning balls went in all directions, illuminating the night. Everyone scrambled frantically out of their paths, but one man near Balthas was not fast enough; he screamed horribly over the sharp crackle of electricity as the lightning ball engulfed and electrocuted him.

Balthas quickly reached one of the insects, which hissed loudly and swiped at him with its claws. Balthas dodged the clumsy blow and started swinging his poleaxe as hard as he could. The jagged blade of the weapon hit the scarab twice. The first blow opened a large gash on its abdomen, and the second completely decapitated it, the head falling to the ground in a splash of green blood. Balthas ducked just in time for the lightning balls to go over his head. He glanced over at his son, who had also just killed one of the creatures.

Feeling more confident, Balthas ran to the closest scarab he could find, which was busy fighting another man. Balthas maneuvered behind the occupied insect, then skewered it in the back. Green blood splashed his robes, and he swore he saw a surprised look on the scarab’s insectoid face before it collapsed.

The man that had been fighting it breathed a sigh of relief. He was noticeably older and Balthas wasn’t sure that he would have won the battle, if not for his intervention. “Thank you,” he said to Balthas.

“No problem.” Balthas was about to engage the next scarab when he saw the man’s eyes and mouth suddenly widen in horror. Balthas whirled around, expecting an attack from behind, but there was nothing. “What is it?”

The man pointed past the gates, into the middle of the cloud of insects. “There’s a man out there!”

“What?” The old man must have been crazy. There was no way a man could be out there in the midst of all the insects. Even the strongest warrior would be killed as soon as he stepped into the periphery of the pack. Balthas squinted in the direction the old man was pointing in, trying to see into the metallic green cloud.

“My God, you’re right.” The old man wasn’t crazy. Beyond the gates, Balthas could just barely see the figure of a man in white desert robes obscured by a flurry of green insects. Whoever it was, he was a goner; he was surrounded in all directions by a wall of scarabs at least twenty thick. There was nothing any of the defenders could do to rescue him; he would be dead long before they cleared enough of the scarabs to reach him.

“We can’t do anything about it,” Balthas said. “Come on, we have to keep fighting!”

The old man frowned. “How did he get out there? The--”

He was interrupted by a deafening explosion and a blinding flash of light, so bright that it was like staring into a thousand suns. Balthas closed his eyes in pain, then yelled as a powerful shock wave hit him. He felt himself lifted off his feet and thrown mercilessly back to earth. His skin stung sharply as billions of sand particles disturbed by the blast swept over him, driving into his nose and mouth. After it passed, he opened his eyes and looked frantically around for the source of the explosion.

“Look!” someone shouted. “Out there!”

Just outside the city gates, there was a smoking crater about thirty feet wide and ten feet deep. The sand in the crater had been scorched black, and a great deal of sand had been melted into glass. There were at least a hundred dead scarabs lying in the crater, their bodies blown apart by the explosion. It looked like the blast had occurred right in the center of the scarab pack. But Balthas had never seen or heard anything so powerful before. Even the royal sorcerers were not capable of such devastation.

The remaining scarabs were still advancing, and Balthas started to get to his feet to attack them. But just then he heard a man’s booming voice calling out from the desert: “Close your eyes!” Before Balthas did so he just caught a glimpse of the man in white robes as he hurled a small object into the scarab pack.

Another explosion ripped into the desert. It was just as powerful as the first one. Then there was another, and another. The ground shook violently, and Balthas kept his eyes shut, fearful and mind racing as he tried to figure out what was going on. He tried in vain to shield his body from the waves of sand driving into his skin. Then, all of a sudden, there was silence.

Then the voice of the man in the desert spoke again. “The creatures are gone,” he said. “Your families are safe now.”

[azn_apocalypse]

First chapter was too short, so I decided to extend it a little...I also added a little more personal info about the protagonist in the first part, b/c I felt there wasn't enough of that...

--

Balthas’s family had just sat down to dinner when they heard the far-off peal of the warning horn. Lut Gholein was under attack again.

Without saying a word, Balthas and his son Luke both sprang into action immediately, pushing aside their curried wendigo and leaping out of their chairs. They had been through this situation many times and knew exactly what to do. Balthas threw open the arms cabinet, tossed a wooden spear to his son, and chose a particularly nasty-looking poleaxe for himself. The two then ran out the door, leaving Balthas’s wife and his daughter to worry about their safety.

As he entered into the hot desert night, Balthas had a fleeting thought that he was getting too old for these sorts of battles. While he maintained a youthful appearance and muscular frame that belied his age, the fact still remained that he was over forty, and not getting any younger. Though he had not admitted it to anyone, he had noticed himself getting more and more weary after every skirmish, and it was starting to become an issue for him. Eventually, he knew that he would have to retire from his post as a soldier for the city, and Luke would have to take his place. But until then, every man, no matter how old, was needed to defend Lut Gholein from its enemies.

Outside, Balthas and Luke joined a crowd of others running frantically toward the gates of Lut Gholein, weapons in hand. The doors of houses were flying open everywhere as more and more men, carrying polearms, swords, clubs, even kitchen knives, joined the rush of those fanatically wanting to defend their city.

“What is it?” several voices shouted into the night.

“Scarabs!” came the answer. “Hordes of them! More than we’ve ever seen!”

Balthas saw his son wince. Of all the creatures from the desert that had ever attacked Lut Gholein, Balthas knew that Luke feared the scarab beetles the most. Balthas had to agree; he himself found the scarabs more fearsome than the mummies or spear cats that were also found out in the wasteland. There was just something very unnerving about fighting an insect as tall as a man.

The attacks from the desert creatures had always been an issue in Lut Gholein, but recently the sieges had been increasing in both frequency and intensity. It was a worrisome trend, and no one knew the reason behind it. The last attack, which came only two days ago from a horde of undead, had killed off many of the city’s strongest men. During that attack, the undead had come dangerously close to breaking through the city’s defenses; only a last-ditch effort by the palace guards and the royal sorcerers had prevented the attackers from entering the city and committing untold horrors. Since that day, Lut Gholein had lived in fear of the next attack, hoping the city’s weakened defenses would be enough to repel it.

Now that attack had come, and it was time to determine the city’s fate.

As Balthas reached the city gates he sucked in his breath sharply. The man who had spoken earlier was right. There were more scarabs there then he had ever seen all at once. They had not managed to enter the city yet, but there must have been hundreds of them just outside the gates trying to get in, standing close together in pack formation. They were a metallic green cloud in contrast to the white desert sands, a cloud that was pulsating with individual insects as they emerged from the pack to attack the defenders with their razor-sharp limbs and beaked jaws. It was rumored that they would bring humans fallen in battle back with them to their hive, where they would tear them apart into tiny pieces, each insect getting its own share to eat.

A crowd of men had already started attacking the scarabs. Balthas and Luke ran to join the melee. As he got closer, Balthas heard the reassuring sound of the men’s weapons hitting home. There was also a constant sizzle of electricity, and a steady stream of the lightning balls that scarabs give off when they are hit. The lightning balls went in all directions, illuminating the night. Everyone scrambled frantically out of their paths, but one man near Balthas was not fast enough; he screamed horribly over the sharp crackle of electricity as the lightning ball engulfed and electrocuted him.

Balthas quickly reached one of the insects, which hissed loudly and swiped at him with its claws. Balthas dodged the clumsy blow and started swinging his poleaxe as hard as he could. The jagged blade of the weapon hit the scarab twice. The first blow opened a large gash on its abdomen, and the second completely decapitated it, the head falling to the ground in a splash of green blood. Balthas ducked just in time for the lightning balls to go over his head. He glanced over at his son, who had also just killed one of the creatures.

Feeling more confident, Balthas ran to the closest scarab he could find, which was busy fighting another man. Balthas maneuvered behind the occupied insect, then skewered it in the back. Green blood splashed his robes, and he swore he saw a surprised look on the scarab’s insectoid face before it collapsed.

The man that had been fighting it breathed a sigh of relief. He was noticeably older and Balthas wasn’t sure that he would have won the battle, if not for his intervention. “Thank you,” he said to Balthas.

“No problem.” Balthas was about to engage the next scarab when he saw the man’s eyes and mouth suddenly widen in horror. Balthas whirled around, expecting an attack from behind, but there was nothing. “What is it?”

The man pointed past the gates, into the middle of the cloud of insects. “There’s a man out there!”

“What?” The old man must have been crazy. There was no way a man could be out there in the midst of all the insects. Even the strongest warrior would be killed as soon as he stepped into the periphery of the pack. Balthas squinted in the direction the old man was pointing in, trying to see into the metallic green cloud.

“My God, you’re right.” The old man wasn’t crazy. Beyond the gates, Balthas could just barely see the figure of a man in white desert robes obscured by a flurry of green insects. Whoever it was, he was a goner; he was surrounded in all directions by a wall of scarabs at least twenty thick. There was nothing any of the defenders could do to rescue him; he would be dead long before they cleared enough of the scarabs to reach him.

“We can’t do anything about it,” Balthas said. “Come on, we have to keep fighting!”

The old man frowned. “How did he get out there? The--”

He was interrupted by a deafening explosion and a blinding flash of light, so bright that it was like staring into a thousand suns. Balthas closed his eyes in pain, then yelled as a powerful shock wave hit him. He felt himself lifted off his feet and thrown mercilessly back to earth. His skin stung sharply as billions of sand particles disturbed by the blast swept over him, driving into his nose and mouth. After it passed, he opened his eyes and looked frantically around for the source of the explosion.

“Look!” someone shouted. “Out there!”

Just outside the city gates, there was a smoking crater about thirty feet wide and ten feet deep. The sand in the crater had been scorched black, and a great deal of sand had been melted into glass. There were at least a hundred dead scarabs lying in the crater, their bodies blown apart by the explosion. It looked like the blast had occurred right in the center of the scarab pack. But Balthas had never seen or heard anything so powerful before. Even the royal sorcerers were not capable of such devastation.

The remaining scarabs were still advancing, and Balthas started to get to his feet to attack them. But just then he heard a man’s booming voice calling out from the desert: “Close your eyes!” Before Balthas did so he just caught a glimpse of the man in white robes as he hurled a small object into the scarab pack.

Another explosion ripped into the desert. It was just as powerful as the first one. Then there was another, and another. The ground shook violently, and Balthas kept his eyes shut, fearful and mind racing as he tried to figure out what was going on. He tried in vain to shield his body from the waves of sand driving into his skin. Then, all of a sudden, the explosions stopped, the sand stopped flying, and there was silence.

Then the voice of the man in the desert spoke again. “The creatures are gone,” he said. “Your families are safe now.”

Balthas could not believe what he saw when he opened his eyes.

The man in white robes was standing, unscathed, outside the gates. The desert sands around him had been turned into a series of black smoking craters, the smoke rising up from the sand in thick tendrils that trailed off into the night sky. Lying in the craters were hundreds of scarab corpses, green blood, and scattered scarab limbs. There were so many dead scarabs that Balthas realized at once that the man had killed the entire pack. Every last one.

But despite the victory, it was clear that the battle had taken another huge toll on the men on the city. Bodies were scattered all over the battlefield, and from a distance, it was hard to tell which ones were lying there because they had taken cover from the explosions, and which ones were merely dead. The dead ones lay face down in the dirt, their bodies scorched from lightning or punctured by insect limbs. A revolting odor of scorched earth and flesh overwhelmed Balthas’s senses.

The man in the desert brushed off his robes, as if the massacre had been nothing but a chore. Wading his way through the corpses, he began to approach the gate. “I’ve never seen so many scarabs at once before,” he noted. “I would say that it’s fortunate that I arrived here when I did.”

All of a sudden from nearby there came the powerful and unmistakable sound of several trumpets blasting the royal fanfare. Like conditioned animals, all the men of the city, including Balthas, simultaneously turned toward the sound and fell on their knees in reverence. The lord of Lut Gholein, Jerhyn, had arrived on the scene. The thin, tanned aristocrat came into view from behind a cadre of guards. He sat perched on a glossy white horse, looking very much like the royalty that he was. Next to him was the imposing figure of Greiz, the captain of the royal guard, mounted on a muscular black warhorse.

Greiz drew his sabre from the sheath on his belt, and he yelled to the stranger in a stern commanding tone: “Stay your ground, newcomer! You will remain outside the city until the great Lord Jerhyn commands you otherwise!” Greiz had been the leader of a band of desert mercenaries for years before his service to Lut Gholein culminated in the offer to become captain of the royal guard, and his years of experience out in the desert had given him a confident, seasoned air. Rumor had it that while he was a traveling mercenary, he had lived the harshest side of human existence, committing all manner of atrocities, murders, and plunders against his fellow man. All this gave him a harsh, almost evil aura that frightened the wits out of his opponents.

The stranger, seemingly affected by the sudden command and the daunting presence that issued it, stopped in his tracks. Then he promptly regained his composure and made a sweeping bow directed at Jerhyn. “Your majesty,” he said. “With all due respect, I just saved this city. Surely I could be allowed entrance.”

It was Greiz, not Jerhyn, who answered. “You’ll be allowed in when I say you’ll be allowed in,” he growled. “I’m in charge of who gets through this gate.”

Jerhyn clapped his hands twice to address the men of the city. “The civilian men are hereby dismissed. Go back to your homes. I want the soldiers to stay here, however. Balthas, Jolbert, Gerud…” Jerhyn began ticking off their names.

The men, at least those who could move, began to get up and stumble toward their homes. Balthas caught sight of his son and the two ran a short distance before embracing each other. “Are you all right?” he asked Luke.

“I’ll be fine,” Luke said briskly.

His hand came away from Luke’s side covered in red. “You’re wounded!” Balthas said, surprised. The wound was severe; Luke must have been in extreme pain, although he was not showing it.

“No, it’s fine,” Luke said, shrugging it off. “Is everything going to be okay here?”

Balthas paused. The boy was already developing the detachment of emotion that usually came with becoming a man. He hadn’t expected that so soon from his son, and it was surprising to see it. “Yes,” Balthas said finally. “I’m sure Jerhyn just wants to address the soldiers about the attacks. I should be home soon.”

“All right.” Luke turned and, without another word, began walking home. He didn’t bother holding his side. Balthas watched his son go, until he disappeared behind a building and was gone.

Once the civilians had departed, Greiz called out to the stranger: “Step forward through the gate! I want to have a look at you.”

“As you wish,” the stranger said, and started trudging forward. As he approached more of his features became visible. He was a slender man; his white robes were slightly too big for him. The belt attached to his waist held several potions that Balthas could not identify from their appearance, as well as a strange device that looked somewhat like a sword, except with a flaring, cone-shaped pipe attached to it.

Jerhyn spoke. “Who are you? And what sort of arcane magic do you wield, that you can wreak such devastation?”

“My name is Chang,” the stranger said, pulling back his hood to reveal narrow, almond shaped eyes and a long tangle of disheveled black hair. “I am an Alchemist.”

[Banehero]

I really enjoyed it, great detail, I really felt as though I were involved in the crazy scarab battle, ducking electric bolts in the night.

I am looking forward to the next chapter : ) Good work :thumbsup:

[0xDEADCAFE]

I like it! :thumbsup:

Comments:
- I think your second post is a big improvement. It seems much more like a complete chapter and ends with a nicer setup for the following chapters.

- do horns peal?

- I was confused about exactly where the battle was taking place. I assumed it was outside the gates, because "They had not managed to enter the city yet", but "Just outside the city gates, there was a smoking crater about thirty feet wide and ten feet deep" made me think that all the men fighting outside the gate would have been killed too.

- Bring on chapter two!

[BlueNinja]

I think you'd be better off editing the text out of the first message, since it's a bit confusing trying to read two drafts one right after another and find the differences. But it's a good story.

And yes, horns peal. I think it's a term for a particular set of musical notes, but I'm not sure.

[azn_apocalypse]

Chapter 2 is up. Comments/suggestions welcome. Chapter 3 coming soon...

---

The men of Lut Gholein exchanged glances. Clearly, the term “Alchemist” was foreign to them.

Sensing their confusion, Chang explained, “We are scholars from the western desert. We study…” he paused briefly, “…chemicals.”

“How did you cause those explosions?” Jerhyn asked. “A magic spell?”

Chang chuckled. “No, my lord. Alchemists are not mages. We deal only in earthly science.” He motioned to one of the potions on his belt. It was bright orange and contained in a small flask capped with a cork. There were several other identical-looking potions on his belt. “An exploding potion, synthesized by my people. It’s ten thousand times more powerful than a fulminating or normal exploding potion.”

“Very well. But how did you survive out there, in the middle of the all the scarabs?”

Chang grabbed another potion from his belt. This one was purple and contained in a glass tube, also capped with a cork. “Fighter’s elixir,” he said. Before the men had a chance to react, he had popped the cork and in one swift motion, put the tube to his lips and downed his contents. He had barely taken the tube from his lips when a bloodcurdling roar escaped from his mouth.

The men watched in astonishment as Chang’s body transformed into a hulk. As he screamed, his muscles seemed to inflate, his thin arms suddenly exploding with sinew and veins. Muscles suddenly seemed to ripple out of his torso. The white robes that had been too big for him quickly became skin-tight. In a few seconds, the metamorphosis was complete, and Chang stopped screaming. The elixir had turned him into a superhuman hulk twice as big as any of the other men.

The reaction from Greiz was immediate. “Attack!” he ordered. With a loud whinny, his black warhorse reared back and broke towards Chang as Greiz raised his sabre over his head, preparing to strike his target. The rest of the men also sprang into action. Balthas picked up his spear and prepared to attack.

“Stop!” Chang roared, just as Greiz’s sabre came down on his shoulder. There was a loud clang, as if the sabre had hit a wall, and the blade shattered into a thousand pieces. Greiz grunted in surprise, and the loss of his sabre seemed to throw him off balance as he fell off his horse into the dirt. The guards, who had been running towards Chang to attack him, stopped into their tracks in amazement and fear. Chang’s skin had not even been broken where the sabre had hit.

Chang sighed, as if frustrated by a child. “I asked you to stop,” he said forcefully. The elixir had also deepened his voice, which was now a rumble so deep that it was barely human. “I only took the elixir to protect myself in case you decided to attack me. I mean no harm to anyone in this city. And you see that there can be no good from attacking me with conventional weapons, anyway. You would think,” he muttered, “that you would show more gratitude to the one who saved your city.” He extended a hand to Greiz, who was lying in the dirt. Dazed, Greiz took the hand and Chang helped him to his feet.

As he took the hand, Greiz said in disbelief, “Your skin…it’s like rock.”

“Exactly. I couldn’t have survived the scarabs any other way. It’s temporary though. Lasts a few minutes.”

“Your powers are impressive,” Jerhyn announced. “I apologize for the…over-zealousness of my guards. We will not make the mistake of attacking you again. But you have still not stated your business here. Why you have come to my city?”

“I’ve been traveling through the desert for the last three days to get here,” Chang answered. “I have urgent news to deliver to you. It’s about the attacks on your city. I’ve found out who’s responsible for them.”

“Who?”

Chang narrowed his eyes. “Pit vipers.”

Jerhyn was surprised. “Pit vipers! Are you sure?”

“Yes. They’re using some type of magic to bring the lesser desert creatures under their control, and bidding them to attack this city.”

“Those things are trouble,” Greiz said with an annoyed look.

“They are intelligent creatures,” Chang said. “I always knew that they were capable of magic, but this is definitely the first time they have used it to bring other creatures under their control.”

“How do you know the pit vipers are responsible?” Jerhyn asked.

“Because I saw it with my own eyes,” Chang answered. “I was nearly killed by the beasts.” His eyes flashed fire for a few seconds, then he began to tell his story.

***

Chang explained that the Alchemists lived in Arashnee, a small city in the western desert about two days’ travel from Lut Gholein. There his people were able to conduct their studies in isolation from the rest of the world, and they were rarely bothered by anyone, which was to their wishes.

However, in recent months Arashnee had been experiencing attacks by desert creatures much like the ones Lut Gholein had suffered. Like the Lut Gholein attacks, they had been increasing in strength and frequency, and were a growing worry. The ruling council of the Alchemists decided to send out a party to find the source of the attacks.

A few days earlier, the party had started their mission. Thirty people, including Chang, had started out from Arashnee with ample supplies of food, water, and weapons, as well as various potions and elixirs of defense. They fought their way through the desert, following the trail of corrupted desert creatures to an abandoned city deep in the heart of the dunes. The city was not on any map, so they were not sure exactly where it was located, but it was several days’ travel from any civilization.

Pit vipers seemed to rule over the city, dozens of them inhabiting it. In addition to these intelligent beings, swarms of lesser creatures: undead, scarabs, and saber cats; also roamed about. The men of the party scouted the city briefly before entering it. They saw dozens of viper magi hunched over altars, performing arcane rituals. As the magi hissed their mysterious mantras, the lesser creatures seemed to fall under their control, doing their bidding. The Alchemist party was fearful at the sight of this magic but they did not hesitate any longer; they attacked the vipers.

The attack was a disaster. Though the Alchemists were relatively protected against physical attacks by their fighter’s elixir, they did not have protection against the vipers’ magic spells. Furthermore, the sheer number of viper mages was enough to favor them in battle. As a result, the vipers completely decimated the Alchemist party. Only Chang, who barely escaped the city with his life, survived.

While Chang survived, he realized that his remaining supplies would not be enough to sustain him for a trip all the way back to Arashnee. Bruised, battered, and with only a few potions of defense left, Chang decided to head to the closest city on his map…Lut Gholein.

***

Chang sucked in his breath sharply. Apparently, the fighter’s elixir he quaffed earlier was wearing off. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as his entire frame shrank. The veins in his neck stopped bulging, the sinew and muscular definition from his arms disappeared. In seconds his white robes once again hung loose at his sides. He exhaled deeply, like someone who has just been relieved of great pain, and said: “It hurts a lot less when it wears off than when you first take it.”

“Anyway,” he continued, “I was lucky to make it here. I had to fight my way through more than a couple of hordes the past couple of days.”

“I can imagine,” Jerhyn said. “But who would have thought that pit vipers could have been responsible for such devastation?”

“I don't know. It certainly surprised me as much as anyone. I need to get back to Arashnee,” Chang continued. “The ruling council will be interested to hear the source of these attacks. But…” he trailed off.

“What?”

“We can’t defeat the vipers on our own. We’re going to need some kind of help.”

The obvious suggestion hung in the air.

“You want our forces to join with yours,” Jerhyn said.

“It may be the only way to stop these attacks.”

Jerhyn bit his lip and hesitated. He was turning the idea over in his mind. Finally, he said: “The pit vipers need to be defeated; there is no question about that. However, the problem is that we don’t have many men left. Our forces are in shambles after the last attack, and every last man is going to be needed here to defend the city. I don’t even know how many of our men are still alive.”

Chang nodded. “I understand, my lord. I was afraid you would say something like that.” He sighed fancifully. “I wish there was some way we could coordinate something, though.”

Jerhyn thought for a minute. “Perhaps I could travel back to Arashnee with you to speak with your ruling council. If I knew about our combined resources, it would make it easier for us to coordinate an attack. You said it was only two days travel, right?”

Chang’s eyes brightened and he was suddenly excited. “That is an excellent idea! We could--”

“Hold on a minute,” Greiz interjected, his face stern. “That desert is crawling with creatures, my lord. Two days or not, you could be killed out there.”

Jerhyn didn’t seem deterred. Clearly, he had already made his decision. “I shall arrange an escort to accompany us through the desert,” he said briskly. “Greiz, I want you and the rest of the guards to stay here and defend the city. But Balthas, Jolbert, and Gerud shall accompany Chang and I to Arashnee.” A smile crossed Jerhyn’s face. “And I think the head of the royal sorcerers has also been asking for a little travel recently.”

“You’re referring to me, of course,” a voice from above them said.

They looked up to see a white-bearded man in orange robes, a quarterstaff in his hand, hovering in the air a few feet above them. Drognan had his eyes closed and was concentrating deeply on the levitation spell. Even when the head of the royal sorcerers was not casting spells, it was not unusual to see him as deep in thought as he was now. An extremely educated and adept mage, Drognan had a way of looking at people that always made them feel as if he was on an entirely different plane of thought. Which, more often than not, he was.

As the men watched, awed by this display of magic, Drognan floated gently to the ground. “You always did know how to make an entrance,” Jerhyn quipped. “Chang, this is the Drognan, the head of the royal sorcerers.”

“I am honored to meet you,” Chang said. “A sorcerer, eh?”

“I consider that my primary study,” Drognan shrugged. “But I have studied other magics… thaumaturgy, necromancy, divination…a little bit of everything.”

“Very impressive.”

“I’ve heard of the Alchemists before. They are discussed in many books I have read. Even before the display of power that you put on today, I’ve always known that yours are a very powerful, if not very well-known, people.”
Chang bowed. “We prefer to be in isolation. We find it conducive to our studies.”

“It’s always made me curious. I’ve been wanting for years to learn more about Alchemy. I would be very interested in meeting your peers and discussing what chemicals you use.” He turned to Jerhyn. “So you want me to accompany you to Arashnee, right?”

Jerhyn nodded. “I think it would be best if we had your services on the journey.”

Drognan rubbed his hands together. “Excellent.”

“Well, we’d better get started,” Jerhyn said, looking out at the night sky. “We don’t have any time to waste if we want to defeat the pit vipers. I want our party to be through the gates tonight. We don’t want to waste a minute. Let’s go and get ready and meet at the gates. The rest of you, to your posts!”

***

Balthas greeted his wife at the door of his house. She looked haggard and tired, having stayed awake to wait for him. “There’s been a change in plans,” Balthas told her. “I need to leave right away. Is Luke all right?”

His wife nodded. “He’ll be fine. He was wounded on his side but I cleaned and dressed it. He’s in his room now.”

“Ok,” Balthas said, and went up towards the boy’s room.

He knocked, and Luke’s voice said, “Come in.”

Balthas creaked open the door and entered. The room was very dark, poorly lit by a single lantern. His son was sitting on his bed, staring quietly into the lantern. He was not wearing a shirt, and Balthas could see the large, new-looking bandage covering up the wound on his side. The pungent odor of salve reached his nostrils. “How are you holding up?” Balthas asked his son.

“I’ve been better,” Luke shrugged. He didn’t seem bothered at all; if he was hurting, he wasn’t showing it. “Some battle today, eh?”

“Yes, it was.”

“I killed five scarabs tonight,” Luke said proudly. “I used to be really afraid of them, you know, but tonight, for some reason, they didn’t scare me that much. I don’t know, I think maybe I’m getting better at this whole combat thing.” There was a trace of smugness in his voice. Luke smiled. “How was the meeting with Jerhyn?”

“Informative,” Balthas said. He told him of what Chang the Alchemist had said, and of the sudden trip to Arashnee. Luke seemed to listen intently as he told the story, occasionally nodding and asking questions.

“It sounds dangerous,” Luke said after his father had finished the story. “Perhaps I should go with you on the journey.”

Balthas shook his head. “No, you’re hurt and need to recover.”

“I feel fine,” Luke said, with a little indignation.

“Well, it would be best if you stayed here anyway. I need you here to protect the family.”

For a moment, Luke seemed to think about raising a protest, but he shook his head and dropped the matter. “Fine,” he said.

There was silence in the room for a while. “Listen,” Balthas began. “You’re progressing a lot as a fighter. I’m very proud of you, and you’re going to make a fine addition to the guard someday. But sometimes…” he trailed off.

“Yes?”

“Sometimes I feel like you want to progress too fast.”

Luke looked at his father in disbelief. “What?”

“Look,” Balthas said, purposely keeping his voice low. “It’s been this way for awhile now. Lately I feel like you’re always trying too hard to impress me, or to be a man, or something. You’re acting recklessly. And you can’t act recklessly in this position. If you do that you’re likely to be killed.”

“Acting recklessly?” Luke’s voice was low, but incredulous. “What are you talking about?”

Balthas stared at his son. “Like wanting to go on missions when you’re wounded,” he said firmly. “Like pretending nothing’s wrong when there’s blood pouring out of your side. My point is, you can get away with that stuff when you’re older and have more experience. But right now it’s too early.”

Now Luke looked angered rather than incredulous. He scowled at his father. “I disagree,” he said tightly. “I think I know what I’m doing. I’m not a baby anymore. Look, if you’re saying that you don’t want me to go with you to defend the city next time, just come out and say it.”

“Ah, forget it,” Balthas said, turning to leave. “We’ll be here all night if we continue to talk about this. I need to leave as soon as possible. Just behave yourself while I’m gone.”

“I don’t even know what you want,” Luke said to his father’s back.

The door slammed shut behind Balthas as he left. He cursed himself as he walked down the stairs toward the front door. He shouldn’t have even brought the whole thing up. This was not the way he wished to leave on his journey.

[RevenantsKnight]

Hmm...both chapters of this story are quite original, from the new character class to the interpretation of the Tainted Sun quest. They’re also fairly rich in description, and in general free of spelling or grammatical errors. For these reasons, they’re interesting and rather enjoyable to read, so good job so far :)

However, there are some points where the story starts shifting into a more modern or game-based tone, which is detrimental in my opinion, and I don’t find the personal parts and character motivations as compelling as they could be. Here’s just my two cents on your story, complete with praise, reasonable suggestions, ill-tempered rants, and pure insanity:

Without saying a word, Balthas and his son Luke both sprang into action immediately, pushing aside their curried wendigo and leaping out of their chairs.

Umm...the only Yeti-class monsters in all of Act II are Crushers, which are in the Canyon of the Magi. Given that, “curried wendigo” is probably not a realistic dish for the vast majority of Lut Gholein’s inhabitants.

Though he had not admitted it to anyone, he had noticed himself getting more and more weary after every skirmish, and it was starting to become an issue for him.

“An issue” seems a bit too modern in terms of how you use it here; I have a hard time imagining anyone out of a medieval fantasy world saying this. Try describing what’s actually happening to him as a result of his fatigue. Are his reflexes slowing; does he have trouble picking up a weapon after a fight?

The doors of houses were flying open everywhere as more and more men, carrying polearms, swords, clubs, even kitchen knives, joined the rush of those fanatically wanting to defend their city.

In general, this sentence is good; it conveys a sort of desperate, spirited air that nicely characterizes a city under siege. However, “fanatically wanting” doesn’t fit smoothly with the rest of the sentence, probably because “wanting” is a bit too bland compared to everything else. I’d look for a synonym, or rewrite that last bit to get rid of it.

The attacks from the desert creatures had always been an issue in Lut Gholein, but recently the sieges had been increasing in both frequency and intensity. It was a worrisome trend, and no one knew the reason behind it.

Again, there’re some words in here (“issue” and “trend”) that sound too modern. Each time I see something like that, I usually have to pause for a second, and since this isn’t an isolated occurrence, your story flows less than it really should.

As Balthas reached the city gates he sucked in his breath sharply. The man who had spoken earlier was right. There were more scarabs there then he had ever seen all at once. They had not managed to enter the city yet, but there must have been hundreds of them just outside the gates trying to get in, standing close together in pack formation. They were a metallic green cloud in contrast to the white desert sands, a cloud that was pulsating with individual insects as they emerged from the pack to attack the defenders with their razor-sharp limbs and beaked jaws. It was rumored that they would bring humans fallen in battle back with them to their hive, where they would tear them apart into tiny pieces, each insect getting its own share to eat.

Nice description. This really helps create a mental image of the scene.

Balthas maneuvered behind the occupied insect, then skewered it in the back. Green blood splashed his robes, and he swore he saw a surprised look on the scarab’s insectoid face before it collapsed.

“Occupied” doesn’t quite work here, though I did get the gist of what you were trying to say. “Preoccupied” or “distracted” are better fits in terms of their definitions, since they mean directly that the insect’s attention is somewhere else, while “occupied” has several meanings and could be misread upon first glance. The rest of this, especially the part about the scarab’s face, is in my opinion strong writing.

Then, all of a sudden, the explosions stopped, the sand stopped flying, and there was silence.

A very minor detail: try not to repeat the same verb in sentence unless you want to draw particular emphasis to it. While it’s possible that that was your intent, it doesn’t seem to fit perfectly here, as it takes the reader’s attention away from the suddenness of the changes and the ensuing silence, which I think is more important in this case. I’d suggest finding a synonym to replace one of the instances of “stopped.”

There were so many dead scarabs that Balthas realized at once that the man had killed the entire pack. Every last one.

“Every last one” is a fragment; while it may be acceptable for stylistic reasons (I can’t really decide one way or the other on this), it’s grammatically incorrect. You might be able to combine this to the preceding sentence and still convey the intended effect, which would be preferable.

The lord of Lut Gholein, Jerhyn, had arrived on the scene.

Again, this isn’t something I’d expect from a classic fantasy type story, in terms of tone at least. This sort of narration is in my mind more suited to something modern, and in general it seems too simplistic a declaration to be descriptive. With a little effort, I’m sure you could come up with a sentence that both fits the mood of your story and helps the reader imagine Jerhyn’s entrance.

Greiz drew his sabre from the sheath on his belt, and he yelled to the stranger in a stern commanding tone: “Stay your ground, newcomer! You will remain outside the city until the great Lord Jerhyn commands you otherwise!” Greiz had been the leader of a band of desert mercenaries for years before his service to Lut Gholein culminated in the offer to become captain of the royal guard, and his years of experience out in the desert had given him a confident, seasoned air. Rumor had it that while he was a traveling mercenary, he had lived the harshest side of human existence, committing all manner of atrocities, murders, and plunders against his fellow man. All this gave him a harsh, almost evil aura that frightened the wits out of his opponents.

I never got this impression of Greiz from the game; at most, he seemed grim and calculating, but he was hardly the sort of evil terror you’re making him out to be. If anything, he was as much a businessman as he was a warrior, as evidenced by Fara’s assessment of him as a selfish mercenary and his not-so-subtle hints to the player character to hire some of his spearmen. While it’s always a good thing if you develop NPCs to a greater extent than in the game, something like this that runs strongly against his in-game personality might be difficult for a reader to accept. Then again, maybe he’s only like this in battle, so...I guess it’s a bit of a tossup as to whether this neatly expands Greiz’s character, or if it starts going off into the realm of unbelievability.

Balthas caught sight of his son and the two ran a short distance before embracing each other. “Are you all right?” he asked Luke.

“I’ll be fine,” Luke said briskly.

His hand came away from Luke’s side covered in red. “You’re wounded!” Balthas said, surprised. The wound was severe; Luke must have been in extreme pain, although he was not showing it.

“No, it’s fine,” Luke said, shrugging it off. “Is everything going to be okay here?”

Balthas paused. The boy was already developing the detachment of emotion that usually came with becoming a man. He hadn’t expected that so soon from his son, and it was surprising to see it. “Yes,” Balthas said finally. “I’m sure Jerhyn just wants to address the soldiers about the attacks. I should be home soon.”

“All right.” Luke turned and, without another word, began walking home. He didn’t bother holding his side. Balthas watched his son go, until he disappeared behind a building and was gone.

This got a little too dry for my tastes, and possibly for that reason I didn’t really believe the emotional connections between Balthas and Luke. There’s no description of Balthas’s sense of relief or joy upon seeing his son again; it’s merely implied, and for strong emotions, it’s usually a good idea to call extra attention to them by describing them in some manner. Same for when Luke leaves; what’s going through Balthas’s mind as he sees him walk off? Also, for what you do describe in the middle of the passage, you mostly state facts like “the wound was severe.” Instead of just handing them to the reader, I’d suggest describing them (to use an irritating but effective term from high school English, “show not tell.”) Draw an image of the wound for the reader, and from that image the reader should be able to see that the wound was severe. This is true for other instances as well; don’t just apply it to this one passage and forget about it, because a well-placed and strongly executed description can make a scene come alive.

“An exploding potion, synthesized by my people. It’s ten thousand times more powerful than a fulminating or normal exploding potion.”

The distinction between “fulminating” and “exploding” potions is probably lost on anyone who hasn’t played Diablo II. Granted, this is a Diablo II fan fiction forum, but I’d say that it’d be just as effective if you wrote something to the effect of “this potion has more potency than of your exploding concoctions,” which should be understandable to everyone.

“Very well. But how did you survive out there, in the middle of the all the scarabs?”

Um...the end of this sentence should probably read something like “in the middle of all those scarabs...”

“And you see that there can be no good from attacking me with conventional weapons, anyway.”

The phrase “conventional weapons” isn’t associated with medieval arms so much as high-explosive bombs and assault rifles. I’d try to find another, more period-appropriate, way of describing what you mean.

Chang narrowed his eyes. “Pit vipers.”

Do you mean “claw vipers,” or are you just using a different term for them?

Jerhyn bit his lip and hesitated. He was turning the idea over in his mind. Finally, he said: “The pit vipers need to be defeated; there is no question about that. However, the problem is that we don’t have many men left. Our forces are in shambles after the last attack, and every last man is going to be needed here to defend the city. I don’t even know how many of our men are still alive.”

Given that the player character in Diablo II has to do quite a bit to get Jerhyn to admit that he’s got a problem in the palace (the Arcane Sanctuary quest), I find it a little hard to believe that Chang gets told all this so soon. Granted, it’s necessary for the way you’ve set up your plot, but it’s still out of character for Jerhyn. Maybe you could set this up with another event or something, since in general this progression seems perhaps a bit too fast.

“You always did know how to make an entrance,” Jerhyn quipped. “Chang, this is the Drognan, the head of the royal sorcerers.”

Why [i]the Drognan? Since his name wasn’t mentioned before to Chang, this doesn’t really make sense.

Balthas greeted his wife at the door of his house. She looked haggard and tired, having stayed awake to wait for him. “There’s been a change in plans,” Balthas told her. “I need to leave right away. Is Luke all right?”

His wife nodded. “He’ll be fine. He was wounded on his side but I cleaned and dressed it. He’s in his room now.”

“Ok,” Balthas said, and went up towards the boy’s room.

With a conversation this brief before his journey, I got the impression that Balthas doesn’t like his wife, but then there’s been nothing else to really suggest that. You might want to flesh out her character a little more, and in the process develop Balthas as well, or at the very least make their relationship a little clearer.


“I killed five scarabs tonight,” Luke said proudly. “I used to be really afraid of them, you know, but tonight, for some reason, they didn’t scare me that much. I don’t know, I think maybe I’m getting better at this whole combat thing.” There was a trace of smugness in his voice. Luke smiled. “How was the meeting with Jerhyn?”

Seeing as this sort of thing provokes a bit of a confrontation between Balthas and Luke later in the scene, you might want to quickly touch on Balthas’s reaction, internal or external, to these words. It’d help set up the following bits for the reader.

Balthas shook his head. “No, you’re hurt and need to recover.”

“I feel fine,” Luke said, with a little indignation.

“Well, it would be best if you stayed here anyway. I need you here to protect the family.”

For a moment, Luke seemed to think about raising a protest, but he shook his head and dropped the matter. “Fine,” he said.

There was silence in the room for a while. “Listen,” Balthas began. “You’re progressing a lot as a fighter. I’m very proud of you, and you’re going to make a fine addition to the guard someday. But sometimes…” he trailed off.

“Yes?”

“Sometimes I feel like you want to progress too fast.”

Luke looked at his father in disbelief. “What?”

“Look,” Balthas said, purposely keeping his voice low. “It’s been this way for awhile now. Lately I feel like you’re always trying too hard to impress me, or to be a man, or something. You’re acting recklessly. And you can’t act recklessly in this position. If you do that you’re likely to be killed.”

“Acting recklessly?” Luke’s voice was low, but incredulous. “What are you talking about?”

Balthas stared at his son. “Like wanting to go on missions when you’re wounded,” he said firmly. “Like pretending nothing’s wrong when there’s blood pouring out of your side. My point is, you can get away with that stuff when you’re older and have more experience. But right now it’s too early.”

Now Luke looked angered rather than incredulous. He scowled at his father. “I disagree,” he said tightly. “I think I know what I’m doing. I’m not a baby anymore. Look, if you’re saying that you don’t want me to go with you to defend the city next time, just come out and say it.”

Again, this passage lacks descriptions of Balthas’s emotions and thoughts, so it’s hard to get into his mindset and really let the story flow. The facts are there, but the feelings behind them aren’t. See above comment on the after-battle scene for a better explanation, and if you have further questions, harass me somehow and ask ‘em.

On the whole, this is a decent story, and could get pretty darn good with some work. I look forward to improvements, revisions, and the next chapter :)

[azn_apocalypse]

Wow, good comments!

I agree that the writing style may be somewhat anachronistic at times (something I'll try to work on in the future) and you found some typos that I missed as well.

I think you're right that I need to flesh out the emotions of the characters more. I'll work on that as well. See, I originally tried to make them have more emotion, but I found that it was hard for me to write that way without the characters sounding or feeling overly sentimental. I think emotions like a father's love for his son, how he feels during an argument with him, etc. are the hardest to put into words, so maybe that's why the writing sounds a bit awkward.

And yeah, they are "claw" vipers. I think I got "pit viper" from Nethack...